


Talk to Me

by grelleswife



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Mild Language, Other, Sebastian isn't sure how to handle Grelle's love, Trans Female Character, being a butler is hard work, but Grelle is there to provide a listening ear, but he just might be falling for her without realizing it, female pronouns for Grelle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 03:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20369908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grelleswife/pseuds/grelleswife
Summary: A particularly irksome day at the Phantomhive manor leaves Sebastian frustrated and irritable. Luckily, Grelle is there to offer a listening ear.





	Talk to Me

Sebastian Michaelis took considerable pleasure in playing the role of Phantomhive butler. Days like this one, however, made him wonder whether it would have been wiser to continue his slumber in Hades rather than pursue the luminous blue star that was his master’s soul. That was where today’s trouble had started—the young master. The Earl had been beset by bloodcurdling nightmares of his past suffering, screaming himself hoarse and tearing at his hair as his percipient mind was rendered witless by the terrors of _that month_. The whole wretched evening was reminiscent of their contract’s tumultuous early days, which Sebastian did not recollect with any degree of fondness. Upon seeing his master’s wan, haggard countenance, a cold sweat beading on his brow, Sebastian realized with a sinking heart that the coming day would be a trying one. The damn brat’s pride far outweighed his fragile, slender frame. Therefore, the humiliation of being reduced to such a pitiful state was intolerable to him. The young master had been snappish and testy, lashing out at Sebastian without warning. He burdened the demon with a series of convoluted and pointless tasks and turned up his nose at the tea Sebastian prepared. Not even a decadent slice of chocolate cake could coax him into a better humor.

It never rains but it pours. At the very time when Sebastian would have most appreciated greater efficiency and productiveness from those three simpletons, his fellow servants’ incompetence doubled. Determined to prepare luncheon with all due celerity, Bardroy instead triggered an explosion that demolished the entire kitchen and destroyed a sizable portion of the estate’s comestibles. This minor disaster necessitated repairs for the ruined kitchen and a trip to procure more foodstuffs. Due to the glasses that blurred Mey Rin’s vision, the maid accidentally mixed white and colored garments while doing the washing, turning the clothes a ghastly shade of pink that not even the young master’s fiancée Elizabeth Midford would find appealing. Finnian’s idiocy was equally egregious. In his zeal to prune the manor’s white roses, he had decapitated the flowers, leaving petals strewn on the ground like the severed heads of a vanquished army. His tearful repentance afterwards had merely disgusted Sebastian. Why couldn’t the buffoon just do his job properly? Sebastian harbored a fondness for those lovely white roses, and seeing their beauty thus defiled filled him with a murderous rage. Through it all, Tanaka sat quietly in a corner nursing his tea, but at least _he_ wasn’t making a blasted nuisance of himself like the others. If Sebastian hadn’t known better, he might have assumed that the servants wished to make his life miserable. A butler should project a dignified, gracious mien, but Sebastian’s frustration could no longer be denied. In a foul mood, the demon stormed outside for breath of fresh air. He glanced up at the sky, blanketed by a swarm of heavy, dark clouds. Unlike most humans, Sebastian did not ascribe to the fallacy that nature reflected the hidden turmoil of his heart. However, the dreary downpour looming imminent was certainly apropos to his current state of mind. Although…

A flicker of hope appeared in Sebastian’s eyes. Perhaps _she_, the incomparable little black cat, would come to succor him. Alas, a quick survey of his surroundings revealed this to be a futile wish, for the charming feline was nowhere to be found. The demon scowled. This day couldn’t possibly get worse.

“BASSYYYY!!!”

A few choice Latin expletives tumbled from Sebastian’s mouth. This was the last thing he needed!

Grelle Sutcliff stood before him, death scythe in hand. Grinning cheekily, she preened and posed. “I am positively _delighted_ to see you again, my darling—"

No. This was the last straw. Over the past months, Grelle, driven by some perverse instinct that Sebastian could not fathom, had occasionally stopped by the manor to do battle (and flirt, though he ignored her lewd propositions as best he could). Admittedly, these fights had their appeal. It was refreshing to test his diabolical strength against a worthy foe, and dueling with a reaper was a welcome change of pace from polishing silverware. Grelle was a handful, though, and Sebastian had neither the time nor the energy to deal with her at the present moment.

“Leave. _Now_.”

Grelle pursed her lips in displeasure. “Really, Bassy, you can’t just interrupt a lady like that. Where are your manners?”

Sebastian’s eyes flared red, and he felt his teeth sharpening into the fangs they truly were. “I am _not_ in the mood to play games with you this afternoon,” he snarled. Grelle smiled placatingly, albeit less widely—she must have sensed the rancor in his tone. “Why so cold, little Sebas? There’s no point in denying the passion between us!”

“Firstly, I am not _little_, Grelle, secondly, that _passion _exists only in your mind, and thirdly, if you don’t get the _hell _out of here, I shall fight you in deadly earnest! Here and now!” the demon roared, an aura of darkness erupting around him as he finally lost his temper.

Grelle took a step back, raising her death scythe as a precautionary measure. There was no fear in her eyes, but she seemed…concerned? “What on earth is the matter, darling? You’re all out of sorts.”

“What business is it of yours? Besides, it’s not as though you actually care,” he spat. “Aren’t I simply a source of entertainment to take your mind off William?”

Grelle flinched. Her distinctive eyebrows arched, enhancing the air of indecision they lent to her face. “You misjudge me, love,” she said, her strident voice curiously subdued. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Oh, you want to ‘comfort’ me? Fornicate amongst the rosebushes?” Sebastian gibed.

“A roll in the grass with you _does_ sound tempting, but that’s not what I’m after. I don’t like seeing you so down and out.” Tentatively, she came closer. “Talk to me.”

“That’s…all?” Sebastian asked incredulously as the manifestations of his demonic form started to fade.

With an easy grace, Grelle sank to the ground, keeping her scythe close at hand. Patting the spot next to her, she smiled encouragingly.

Sebastian was baffled by this situation. Grelle lived for gratifying her desires, and he had never known her to give without asking for something in return. She must have an ulterior motive. But would it really be such a bad idea to unburden himself? He had no confidants, and here Grelle was offering a listening ear.

Gingerly, he seated himself next to her, maintaining enough of a distance to forestall any amorous overtures. “Master and servants alike are testing my patience to its limits…” Sebastian soon launched into an indignant tirade, with Grelle nodding, gasping, and making noises of sympathy and outrage at appropriate points in the narrative.

“…and you wouldn’t believe how _ungrateful_ this shitty brat is, Grelle! He owes his _life _to me, but I never receive a word of thanks, much less praise. It’s always, ‘this is an order, Sebastian,’ and ‘I want cake, Sebastian,’ and ‘Do every damn thing so that I don’t have to lift a finger, Sebastian.’ Queen’s Watchdog? If anyone deserves the title, it’s I! If it wasn’t for me, the young master would have long since crumbled under the weight of his responsibilities.”

“My poor Bassy,” Grelle tutted. “That kid is a pain in the arse, darling. I don’t know how you stand it. How bloody frustrating!”

“It is,” Sebastian sighed wearily, bowing his head. “His soul shall be an exquisite repast, but serving him in the meantime, and dealing with those three…” He flung up his hands in exasperation.

Grelle gently put a hand on his shoulder. Sebastian stiffened, but she made no further advances. He could have shaken her off, but the reaper’s touch was not completely unpleasant. “You’ve had a shite day, Seb, but it won’t last forever,” she assured him. “Better times always come along sooner or later.”

In fact, venting his spleen to Grelle had already made him feel better. Demons could not expect compassion or understanding from the masters who viewed them as chattels, so having someone notice his discontent and care about what the cause might be was a novel pleasure.

The time! Sebastian had become so engrossed in their conversation that he had ignored the minutes ticking away. Consulting his pocket watch, he realized that he would have to return to work.

“Back to the grind?” Grelle asked ruefully, eying the timepiece. “Unfortunately,” Sebastian replied, rising with reluctance to his feet.

“I know the feeling,” she commiserated, getting up to join him. “Our employers work us to _death_. It’s criminal!”

The two stood for a moment in slightly awkward silence before Sebastian cleared his throat. “Thank you for listening to me. I…it did help, I think,” he said quickly. Strange that words of gratitude were spoken with such ease by a tongue accustomed to deceit and insincerity. Grelle’s eyes shone, and she blushed like a schoolgirl.

“You are most welcome, _mon amour_. And should you need a lady to talk to, I’ll be around. After all, as long as you’re contracted to the Earl of Phantomhive, death will never be far behind.” She stuck out her tongue suggestively and flashed one of her trademark hand gestures before disappearing, leaving nary a trace.

“You are impossible, Miss Sutcliff,” Sebastian murmured, rolling his eyes. He couldn’t make heads or tails of this reaper. As he braced himself for the unforeseen trials that were yet to come, though, the butler privately hoped that he and Grelle would speak again soon.


End file.
